


Medical Mismatch

by Ayngelcat



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-27
Updated: 2011-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-26 14:09:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayngelcat/pseuds/Ayngelcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First of five ficlets around the theme of 'Five Firsts,' Written for the TF_Rare_Pairing November Five Firsts challenge. First Aid accepts an internship at Kaon General Hospital with Hook, the best surgeon on Cybertron at the time.</p><p>*Warnings:* Cyber medical procedures, mech attraction, angst. Later, in Chapter 5, an episode of non-con smexual advancement, but it doesn't get to actual interface.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Day at Work

**Author's Note:**

> The usual premise with my Protectobot stories that they weren’t created in Earth late in Season 2, but are a collection of mechs with histories who knew each other previously (Like the Combaticons). This is set during the build-up to the war.

Kaon Central Hospital buzzed with activity, a grim testament to the bomb which had exploded in the Blocks District only breems before. But the team surrounding the unconscious grounder in Operating Room Four worked with quiet and tense efficiency. The renowned surgeon, genius of precision repairs, who was bent over the hole in his chest would have tolerated nothing less.

"Excuse me, sir." The paramedic sounded nervous. "The new intern is here."

Hook did not look up from the tangle of mangled circuitry in the gaping wound. "Hardly the best timing!" he snapped. "Still, I could do with some help. What was his name again?"

"First Aid, sir."

The surgeon raised his head to see a small compact red and white mech poised in the doorway. A cute looking, annoyingly handsome mech, with an air of calm efficiency and ‘goodliness.’

From Iacon, Hook now recalled. He sighed. He knew this 'type.' The mech was already profoundly irritating. He would probably not last a cycle.

Hook returned his attention to the wound. "It might be a good idea if instead of just standing there you got yourself over here!" he snapped. "There's a mech here bleeding to death. If you hadn’t noticed."

A few flickers crossed the faces of the assistants around him. But they remained focused on their various tasks. Hook glowered sternly at the paramedic. "And you should be in ER!"

"Sir!" the paramedic retreated, but not without throwing a wink at the red and white one. "Good luck!" he mouthed, before transforming into a two wheeler and zooming out of the room.

He, too, wondered how long this one would be here. A bit longer than his predecessor, he hoped. This mech was was cute.

........

"Hold this!" Hook ordered. "Now, pass me a number three scalpel. Yes - that one. At least you appear to know your instruments. That is an improvement on most of the morons I get in here."

First Aid wondered if Hook was always like this, or whether the famous medico-technician was simply under pressure from the ‘situation.’

No, he concluded. He’d had enough warnings before he took this job on. Hot Spot had told him Hook could be crankier even than Ratchet, more than making up for the latter's gruffness with moody arrogance and sarcasm. The fact that he’d done his first intern with Ratchet was probably the only reason First Aid was coping now.

That, and the fact that Hook was truly amazing. In every way, so far, he was living up to his reputation.

First Aid watched the long black fingers deftly divide wires and leaking conduits with a speed and precision he would not have previously thought possible. He didn’t care how obnoxious Hook got if he could teach him, First Aid, to operate like this!

A filament of smoke rose as damaged wiring and nodes were severed and thrown into a dish held by the silent assistant at his side. "Conduit clamps!" Hook barked. First Aid already had them in his hand. Hook took them crisply, offering no thanks.

As the energon leakage slowed, First Aid ran his optics up and down the patient. The mech had been blasted apart, the damage profuse; everywhere jagged metal edges and ripped circuitry glared. First Aid would not have thought, if asked previously, that the mech would have ‘made it.’ He marveled at Hook’s amazing confidence in his own abilities. He wondered how many times he had done this, how many times per cycle he had to do it.

"Do they know who let off the bomb?" he asked.

"Of course not!" Hook said, as though it were a truly stupid question. "But it hardly takes a genius to guess, does it? Dissidents. Supporters of the rebel regime." He stopped for a moment and looked up, his red optics glowing. "It may be helpful, however, if you confined yourself to fixing the results of the unrest, rather than pondering the politics."

He returned to the conduits. First Aid passed more clamps, but he’d been distracted. That was the first time he’d gotten a proper look up close! And Hook’s face - as notorious for its angular handsomeness as the medic’s abilities - also more than lived up to expectations.

Tingles went through First Aid. He couldn't stop them. All right - he’d vowed that there would be none of ‘that.’ This was a strictly professional appointment. But Hook's appearance - in addition to his 'charisma' - would add a certain ‘something’ to the internship.

And he intended to ‘ponder the politics’ plenty. Doing that was the key to averting the conflict, and sorrowful carnage such as this - which, after all, was what he was really about.

.......

The operation was over, the drones wiping the mech down. The beige and white para had appeared in the doorway. "Take him to Ward 253 if you would, Groove!" Hook said. "Monitor vital signs, core functioning and self repair. Anything happens, Hoist can deal with it. Bring the next two from ER!"

"Sir!" The para busied himself connecting up the patient to the portable life support. Dials flickered and beeping sounds came from the machines.

Hook was looking at First Aid, as though properly noticing him for the first time. There was the slightest hint in his optics that he liked what he saw. His look softened, just a smidgeon. "You actually did quite well," he said. "I’m impressed. Perhaps for once they sent an intern of some use after all."

Over Hook’s shoulder, the beige and white one raised an optic ridge, and gave First Aid a ‘thumbs up.’ Then he had transformed and was towing the unconscious mech out of the room.

"Well don't hang around there! We have work to do!" Hook was striding towards the sterilizer.

Smiling to himself, First Aid followed.


	2. First Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second of five ficlets around the theme of 'Five Firsts,' Written for the TF_Rare_Pairing November Five Firsts challenge. First Aid accepts an internship at Kaon General Hospital with Hook, the best surgeon on Cybertron at the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows straight on from Ch 1.

Steam blasted their panels, hissing, scalding into the seam seals, which would stay intact for as long as they were operating. Through the haze, First Aid could just make out the tall, slim, well proportioned outline, the subtle purple and green hues.

A small flare erupted in his core, as tingles trickled through his circuits.

First Aid admonished himself. This was ridiculous! This was a strictly professional appointment - and here he was, ogling his new boss after - how long? A few breems?

And this was the Great Hook, for pity's sake. According to Ratchet, Cybertron's lead surgeon was strictly celibate. And even if he wasn't, why in the Universe would he be interested in a lowly intern? Every newbie who stepped into these hallowed realms probably 'had ideas' the same. And every single one was undoubtedly disappointed.

"That luckless wretch was just the start," Hook was saying. "We have at least eight more to deal with in the next half cycle - all bomb damage and multiple lacerations. One two and three will require major intervention, which I will carry out and you can assist as before. Four and five are more minor - you can have a go at those yourself. Ditto six, seven and eight." Red optics glinted through the steam.

First Aid winced a little at the terminology - although surely it was just a 'Hookism'? In any case, he could barely contain his excitement. He positively glowed inside. The Great Hook was letting him operate on his own? On his first day? Wait till he told Hotspot!

"Are they the only victims?" he asked. Better still, it sounded as though the casualty figures were not as bad as he’d feared.

The red optics took on a disdainful look. "There are others," Hook said. "But we won’t have time for them and neither will anybody else. They're not worth salvaging."

First Aid froze, anything he night have been feeling turning to horror. Not worth salvaging? "A life is always worth saving!" he cried.

The steam was clearing. Hot air now blasted them, drying their panels. Hook was regarding him cynically. "Surely not where a futile attempt would condemn other more salvageable entities?" he said. "This isn’t Iacon. Resources are scarce." He smiled, sardonically. " In Kaon we preserve the fittest."

That was something First Aid was to hear all too often in the cycles to come.

Hook was leaving the sterilizer and headed back to the op room. First Aid looked at him, doubts now rapidly replacing the exuberance of only moments before. He wondered if there were elements of this internship he might not cope with. Kaon was, after all, awash with very different philosophies. Ratchet had said this often, and not in a complimentary fashion - only First Aid had not focused on that aspect in his application. He had concentrated only on the prospect of Hook’s training, the thrill of adding 'surgical technician' to his growing repertoire.

Hook had paused in the doorway. He wore a look of knowing cynicism. "Your job here is to learn surgery," he said. "Not become embroiled in unworkable idealism. Much as you have demonstrated your abilities, if you don’t think you can confine yourself to the art of surgical repairs then you should leave. There are plenty more where you came from."

First Aid’s core jolted. He could hardly believe it! The prospect of not doing all he had worked so hard for was unthinkable. Yet, clearly freedom of opinion was inoperative in Kaon. And that - that was just so against his principles, he didn't know if he could stand it. Maybe he should, indeed, go!

But then he thought of how hard he HAD worked for this, and how Ratchet and others had poo-poohed his efforts in the end, saying he’d never make it as a surgeon - or, indeed, in Kaon at all.

And Hook? there was surely more behind the cold demeanor and harsh attitudes. It was a question of getting to know him better. 'Discussing' the issues. Compromising.

First Aid drew himself up, strutting after Hook with his chin out. "I’ll stay!" he snapped.

The ghost of a smile appeared on Hook's face. He looked, for the first time, genuinely pleased. A shiver went through First Aid’s core.

"Good!" the maestro said quietly.


	3. First Real Conflict (it was inevitable)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third of five ficlets around the theme of 'Five Firsts,' Written for the TF_Rare_Pairing November Five Firsts challenge. First Aid accepts an internship at Kaon General Hospital with Hook, the best surgeon on Cybertron at the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten cycles later ….

The machines beeped steadily, all the screens showing a steady recovery of the mechs attached to them, a testament to First Aid’s frantic efforts over three cycles to save the victims from the latest attack – all sparklings from a local care facility.

First Aid moved between the small bodies, checking the details of their progress. He responded to the emotional thanks lavished upon him by grateful creators with curt nods, too numb from exhaustion and sadness at the ones who had died outright to be anything other than relieved that his new learned skills could at least save those in the ward.

“Who let this rabble in here?” First Aid had not been aware of Hook’s entry. Now he turned, to see the maestro approaching with a battery of trainee paramedics in tow.

The intern instantly became more alert. He stiffened. In the small amount of time he had been here, he had known what to expect of Hook’s reaction. And the audience was hardly unexpected.

But First Aid refused to be castigated. “The operations have been a success,” he announced proudly to Hook. “But I consider the recovery will be quicker if these sparklings are attended by their loved ones!”

Hook looked at him with a mixture of amusement and incredulity. Yet, First Aid read something else. Was it admiration? That he had dared to stand up to the Great One? Respect? Or was the glint in the optics one of plain derision?

He couldn’t tell. With Hook, First Aid had learned, there was often no way of telling.

The one thing First Aid was sure it wasn’t reciprocation of the growing attraction he still felt for the genius techno-medic, despite everything. Something which now frustrated and infuriated the red and white intern, and which he was at a loss to figure out. Especially right now.

A cynical smile crossed Hook’s face. “What a quaint idea!” he said. “Not one grounded in any scientific fact of course but ‘touching,’ nevertheless.” First Aid noted in annoyance that the paramedics tittered politely.

The visitors, seeing the looks on the faces of the two medics and sensing Hook’s disapproval, gave their sparklings pecks on cheeks and made themselves scarce, whispering among themselves as they moved to the corridor outside. Machines beeped next to lone sparklings, the awake ones staring wide-opticed themselves, looking unhappy but somehow sensing that silence was the best agenda.

Hook swept down the line, his entourage in tow. He looked, to First Aid’s annoyance, most pleased at the departures. First Aid strutted beside him defiantly. Hopefully, Hook would get this over with soon – and find no deficiencies in his work. When he had gone, First Aid intended summoning the ‘rabble’ straight back in. Later, he would argue the point – most stringently – if necessary. And to hell with the trainees.

At each patient, Hook extended a cable from his wrist and plugged briefly in, ignoring the scared expressions on the small faces. As he progressed, his expression changed from sardonic amusement to one of being impressed. Clearly, however, this warred with annoyance. And the need to satisfy his own magnanimous ego.

“I hope you are noting the innovation in these repairs,” he snapped at the trainees. “And the very well performed local and systemic approach. Exactly as I have instructed, of course. I suggest that you take schematic records, because I will not, in the future, tolerate anything less from anyone who wishes to be on my team!”

First Aid did, in fact, feel a glimmer of the pride he had felt on the first day. But he was still cross – and now determined to make his point. He regarded his superior resolutely. “My surgical technique in conjunction with accelerated recovery will free up resources at the first convenience!” he managed a smile at the trainees. “As is Hospital Policy.”

Now the trainees looked from Hook to himself. First Aid read intrigue on their faces, then fear at the glowering form of the surgeon, then a veiled admiration. That he would dare to challenge the Great Hook. ‘Well,’ he thought triumphantly, ‘take note!’

But Hook merely smiled. His optics took on a similarly triumphant glint. “Well that is as well,” he said. “Because this lot are being discharged in half a cycle!”

He turned to the trainees. “I have just been commed about another emergency,” he said. “A shuttle crash on the East Side. We will require at least half a ward …” he looked smugly at First Aid. “As is also ‘Hospital Policy.’”

First Aid gaped at him. “But they’re sparklings! And they’re only just out of surgery!” he protested.

Hook raised an optic ridge. “These are young shuttleformers in their prime. On the forefront of Cybertron’s exploration and expansion team, and able to bring many here should the need arise. Excellent physical specimins …”

“Survival of the fittest,” muttered First aid.

Hook nodded and moved on. His throng moved behind him, a mixture of glances travelling First Aid's way. Hook's voice faded as they moved into the other half of the ward. “Yes, I will expect nothing less from any of you!” First Aid heard. “You want to know why my new intern is such an excellent operator? He learns fast. I suggest you all take a leaf out of his book ….”

First Aid looked after them, fury and disappointment burning within his spark, overriding any satisfaction he might feel at this ‘compliment.’ He vowed to not abandon his ideals, and to continue, somehow, with the impossible task of somehow ‘educating’ Hook. The sparklings were, in fact - and thanks to his practices - well enough recovered to survive outside the hospital. But it wasn’t the point.


	4. First Storming Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fourth of five ficlets around the theme of 'Five Firsts,' Written for the TF_Rare_Pairing November Five Firsts challenge. First Aid accepts an internship at Kaon General Hospital with Hook, the best surgeon on Cybertron at the time.
> 
> *Warnings:* Angst and conflict!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another seven cycles later. After quite a bit more conflict, and deteriorating relations ....

It was coming. First Aid knew. There was a limit to the amount of time he could keep his mouth shut.

It happened right after another bomb ripped through Kaon, killing and maiming hundreds.

The hospital corridors were filled with the injured and dying. As First Aid passed by, hands reached out and pleading faces confronted him, begging him to save their loved ones. But he forged on, burning with wretched and helpless anger.

‘Unworkable idealism’ and ‘survival of the fittest’ stung his audials. And it was Hook’s fault! Yes! Any attraction to the medic had now been subsumed by his appalling ethos – or lack of it. For Hook could have used his influence to get more money, build more hospitals. His genius could have treated more patients. But no – he had to blindly adhere to the stupid Kaon creed; his rigid and unbending philosophies underlaid everything he did.

Well, First Aid had made up his mind. He was doing the minimum time necessary to get this qualification. Then – goodbye Kaon. He would return to Iacon, support the regime which would put an end to this ‘thinking.’ The noble leaders of Cybertron - Optimus Prime and his Government - would stop the war. And when they had asserted control, Iaconian - not Kaonese - ways would shape the whole planet.

Stomping into the operating room, First Aid scowled at Hook, noting that the surgeon was alone, and that he looked tireder than usual. Instantly came that feeling, there from time to time, more and more of late, of something First Aid didn’t know; something about Hook which stalked the deepest recesses of the surgeon’s processor which had ‘influenced him’ somehow, made him how he was. Something which would ‘throw a different light’ on things.

And, as had also been the case, the intern softened. Perhaps he should give him ‘one last chance …’ He cleared his throat. “A busy cycle, I understand,” he said.

Hook’s optics narrowed. “What d’you expect?” he snapped. “There’s a war coming. War makes us busy! It is, in fact – though you don’t seem to have noticed – something we were put here for!”

First Aid noted that Hook looked positively ‘ragged.’ And had First Aid felt less ‘stressed’ himself, he may yet have persisted. As it was, all his benevolence evaporated. “You speak of it as though its inevitable!” he snarled. “And speak for yourself. I was not put here for it!”

Hook crossed to the equipment cupboard, his face a mask of anger. Yanking the door open, he started to rifle through instruments. “Oh yeah? That’s because it is inevitable! And YES, you were! All medics have been!”

“It doesn’t have to be that way!” First Aid burst out. “There could be more understanding of – the issues. Many think a war will get them something better. Well - if more was provided, there’d be no need for it! And if you were nicer to the Government, they’d give Kaon more!”

Hook stopped what he was doing and looked around at him. Then he shook his head. “When will you get it into your processor, First Aid that this isn’t about 'making things better?' It’s about power. Power and money! It’s happening. We’re a part of it. And the Government doesn’t even want to stop it!”

He returned to the instruments. “You go tell Megatron’s mob that - all his arms dealers and suppliers.” He chuckled, sarcastically. "Excuse me esteemed Decepticon leaders!" he mimicked First Aid. "Actually – there’s no need for war"

First Aid glowered at his back, hating him. “Everyone here gets treated like – machines!” he said. “They have no self esteem! Its why they do silly things like – join extremist factions led by maniacs.”

Hook had retrieved what he needed. He dumped the clamps on a trolley and turned to First Aid. “But Cybertronians are machines!” he said. “Cybernetic Organisms, Quintesson designed systems! All right, sentience has crept in and so has free will. But that changes nothing. If anything, the machines have improved – for systems strive for perfection, rejecting old orders and bringing in new."

And then, he said it. “War assists that process. It weeds out impediments to it.”

Why was First Aid surprised? It had been crystal clear all along. Nevertheless, to think it was one thing. To actually hear it ....

Hurt and hatred and fury reeled as all the noble reasons, the good and righteous and life preserving reasons - the belief that all beings counted and all had their story to tell, and all were of equal value - all for which he had become a medic burned in his spark. “How can you even REMOTELY BELIEVE that could EVER be right?” he yelled.

Their optics locked, Hook’s a blazing crimson and First Aid’s a piercing, livid blue. And it was then, at the height of First Aid's fury, that a shadow crossed Hook’s face. A flicker. That desolation. Something in keeping with what First Aid had sensed before.

The surgeon ‘changed. he seemed to deflate. “First Aid …” he began. “There are things you don’t understand ….”

But First Aid hardened, too devastated now at the full extent of Hook’s brutal pragmatism to give anything else serious consideration - or allow any more sentiment towards him. Ever!

“Oh I know what you’re going to say!” He bawled. “That my head’s full of unworkable idealism! Well maybe it is. But you won’t have to hear it any more! Because I’m out of here. It’s clear at last that you and I are TOTALLY INCOMPATIBLE!”

And then, in a gesture most uncharacteristic of his usual composed status quo, First Aid picked up his medical kit and hurled it, as hard as he could, at the greatest surgeon on Cybertron.

A look of astonishment crossed Hook’s face; then some thing which was almost horror as he dodged, scalpels, solder guns, and an array of other tools and instruments clattering across the room.

“Use that to help fix the fittest!” First Aid yelled. Then he was out of the room, past the paramedics who had clustered at the door - not one of whom had dared enter, with the mellee inside.

Charging up the corridor, First Aid fought back the tears of bitter disappointment, and swallowed back the lump in his throat.


	5. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fifth of five ficlets around the theme of 'Five Firsts,' Written for the TF_Rare_Pairing November Five Firsts challenge. First Aid accepts an internship at Kaon General Hospital with Hook, the best surgeon on Cybertron at the time.
> 
> *WARNINGS* Anst, non con sexual attempts, mild violence. No actual sex - doesn't get anywhere near that!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows straight on from Chapter 4.

Patients, visitors and medics stared at First Aid as he charged along. He knew many, and saw surprise, and confusion on their faces. The nice beige and white paramedic, Groove, tried to stop him, to put his hand on his arm. But First Aid brushed him away, breaking into a run.

In the clamour of the emergency situation, he did not hear the footsteps behind him, or see the even stranger looks, the exclamations of astonishment at the sight of his pursuer.

Intent only on leaving Kaon forever, First Aid headed through the busy corridors for the main entrance. But in his rush through the sprawling, maze like facility, he lost his way. Instead of ending up in corridors leading to the entry concourse, he found the patients and trolleys at the walls diminishing, the crowds thinning, until he was in a narrow deserted passage. Doors led off to either side and smells of molten metal filled his sensors.

First Aid slowed. He knew, of course, where this was: in the mortuary complex. How on Cybertron had he ended up here? This passage led to the ‘unclaimed corpse’ room, a place where they stacked bodies which no creator or friend had collected. The bodies were smelted in batches. Apart from the odd cadaver or donor retrieval, the place was always quiet.

For a moment, the intern hesitated. The area had an eerie quality. Then, he forged on. There was a back exit near the smelting pool. He would slip out of it and away into Kaon. This was better. The dead mechs piled on the racks nearby would not see him, or remind him of his ineptitude.

But First Aid did not get that far. As he rounded the corner to the corridor leading to the pool, a two wheeler tow was suddenly in front of him.

“Hey – watch out!” The bike swerved. There was a loud clang as First Aid collided with the trolley towed behind him. Both tow and trolley screeched to a halt.

Straightening up, First Aid started. Vacant optics gazed from a grey, deactivated face. Despite having seen uncountable cadavers, First Aid reeled. He stared at the dead mech, transfixed. Another one, not only weak but unwanted!

“You OK?” the trolley tow had transformed. First Aid felt a hand on his shoulder. But before he could reply it was brushed away, to be replaced by another.

“Isn’t there somewhere you’re meant to be?” A familiar voice snapped.

……………………

He was being pulled to one side and the tow had transformed, the trolley sliding past him and disappearing at an understandably fast rate. The grip on his arm was firm. For a moment, First Aid marvelled that Hook had actually followed him, as a glimpse of how he had felt on his first cycle at Kaon Central, of what he had – ridiculous or not – hoped for from Hook, filled his processor.

But then, he hardened. What a stupid thought! And how dare Hook come after him! And, surely, the only reason he had done this was to tell him he was fired!

And First Aid didn’t need to hear it. “Let me go!” he cried, trying to pull away. “Save your energy. I’m going anyway!”

“No!” Hook said quietly. Instead, the grip tightened.

Rage coursed through First Aid. Summoning all his strength, he balled his hand into a fist and swung at the angular face as hard as he could.

…………….

It all happened so fast. Somehow, he missed; and then Hook’s steely hands caught his wrists and next, his back was shoved against the wall. And then – oh no, this could NOT be happening - he was being kissed. Hotly.

He struggled. Of course he struggled! After everything else he had done, this was the final confirmation of Hook’s total depravity. Yet the kiss was fiercely gentle, the lean body firm against him. Inside, things heated; and somewhere an indicator registered: ‘on information available, subject of comparable knowledge and intelligence …. interface compatibility ninety five per cent ….’

For an instant, First Aid almost leaned into the kiss; but then he forced his head sideways, turning his face away and struggling to free his hands, not only appalled at Hook but also now horrified at himself. he snapped the indicator off. “You arrogant creep. I hate you!” he ground out.

Hook drew back, but still pinned his wrists with a vice grip. First Aid turned his head - and now the red optics were boring into him. Was that hurt First Aid could see? “Why?” Hook said. “Because I think differently from you?”

No, it couldn’t be. Hook was a sparkless maniac. He didn’t feel things like ‘hurt.’

“My views are ethical and right! Now LET ME GO!” And bringing his knee up sharply, First Aid tried to drive it into Hook’s codpiece; even as a voice inside him was saying: ‘Who is to say who is right? Does freedom of thought not apply also to him? You are a hypocrite, First Aid!’

Hook countered fast, blocking with his own leg. There was a loud clang as a dint appeared in his thigh. Hook winced - but didn’t let go. Instead, he slammed First Aid back against the wall. Pinning his wrists again, he loomed above. “How would you even know my thoughts, or why I think as I do?” he snarled.

But now, there was no doubt about it. There was pain in the surgeon’s voice. And it had a wretched quality, tinged with that same desolation. ‘You have never even considered his point of view,’ the voice said, ‘and he tried to tell you something. Before!’

First Aid felt himself weaken. But no - Hook’s whole attitude was insufferable; his philosophy unspeakable! And he still had him – detained! The intern struggled again, fixing Hook with a blue glare. “Give me one good reason why I should even be interested?” he growled.

Hook’s optics flared; and for a moment, First Aid thought he was going to be kissed again. He prepared to bite the surgeon – hard. But instead, he found himself looking straight into decidedly pained orbs. “Because sometimes things happen that change you! I don’t like it but its there. Hard wired. And irreversible!” Hook said.

……………

As before, Hook seemed to deflate. His grip loosened, a film appearing on his optics. “You think there’s nothing you can do!” he said. “But then somebody appears in your life - you see what you could have been, and you want to try and salvage something of what you could have been. You hope they can help ….” He looked at the floor. “But they’ve made their mind up about you!”

First Aid looked into the handsome face, now distraught in a way he had not seen before, and his mind went inexorably back to the admiration he had always had, to his first day here, to all the things Hook had taught him, the lives he would save now because of this surgeon.

And his recall systems were retrieving something else: 'Iacon School of Medical Ethics. Regarding Cybertronian history. Creation of military and commercial models. Military: hierarchy programming hardwired. Higher or professional caste may transcend. Override inoperative in some older models ....'

Was Hook – sentenced – to a certain way of thinking?

Hook let go. Sighing, he moved heavily to the side, shuttering his optics as he leaned against the wall.

Any will to fight had gone out of First Aid. Filled with horror at himself that he could have overlooked something so vital, he closed his optics and intaked, heavily. He felt weak, lost for words. His mind went again to the deft fingers, the fingers which could fix anything, driven by a mind which lived to repair mechs and strived for perfection, always – brilliant. But was it destined to certain confines?

First Aid had to know. “Hook ….” He whispered.

But the surgeon seemed to be changing again. The usual coldness was returning. “It must be accepted.” He said. “You are what you are, and I am what I am. And that is the end of it!”

He pulled away from the wall. Then he stiffened, and right before First Aid’s optics, seemed to become truly ‘robotic.’ “I have behaved badly,” he said in a voice almost a monotone. “Designation - Hook. Function - compromised. Code of ethics - fractured. I - apologize.”

First Aid stared at him in disbelief. He opened his mouth to say ‘no, it actually was all right, HE should be apologizing, he’d behaved like a mechelescent and broken his own code ….’ But Hook moved away.

“Designation First Aid – attractive. Attracted. Thought I could ...” There was a flicker of what was before, the voice changing accordingly. Then he looked at First Aid, and the familiar cold demeanour returned – although there was an uncharacteristic ‘awkwardness.’

“My behaviour was unacceptable,” he said. “It is not within my designation to fraternise with subordinates, much less initiate – interface sequences. Especially during an emergency. I repeat - I apologise!”

The red optics regarded the intern. “You are free to go. If you wish to file a formal complaint this will not cast me in a good light and this can be my punishment. My abilities will ensure my continued service here, but that is not the point. You have a right to your grievance!”

“I won’t be filing a complaint” The urge now to understand the surgeon was overwhelming!

“As you wish. Now – I have work to attend to. Much work. I have compromised my function. Again, I apologize.” He said.

Turning on his heel, he strode away. First Aid noted, with a sinking spark, that he walked with a limp.

.........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who have read this and made such great comments. I have written an epilogue which isn't part of the challenge and will post soon. And there will be more Hook/First Aid. They're becoming something of an OTP for me!


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After-chapter to five ficlets around the theme of 'Five Firsts,' Written for the TF_Rare_Pairing November Five Firsts challenge. First Aid accepts an internship at Kaon General Hospital with Hook, the best surgeon on Cybertron at the time.
> 
> *Not part of the challenge.* Just part of my own needs to take this a smidgeon further. *No warnings for this chapter.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continues straight after Chapter 5.

Obviously, Hook couldn’t get away.

No – First Aid had fragged up! He must follow him, stop him, tell him what an egocentric idiot he’d been; how he’d ignored his Iacon teachings and hadn’t seen the obvious, and of course he would help ….

…. and how he honestly, he truly, he absolutely really did not object to any ‘interface’ sequence. Especially one with ‘ninety five per cent compatibility.’

First Aid went to take off after the surgeon. But he found himself again restrained, a hand on his arm. He turned, startled. And looked into the face of the beige and white paramedic.

Groove gave him an ‘understanding’ look. “Hey …” he said.

First Aid had had quite enough restraining for one cycle. He looked at Groove’s hand.

“If you wouldn’t mind letting me go, Groove!” he said. “I have screwed up, and jeopardized my career. I must try and make amends!”

Groove chuckled. “I knew you were different!” he said, letting go of First Aid’s arm. “But look - I wouldn’t bother chasing. You won’t catch him. Those legs of his – he can almost keep up with my alt mode!”

First Aid looked along the corridor. Hook had, indeed, vanished altogether. “He’ll be halfway to ER by now!” Groove grinned.

First Aid looked at him helplessly. “What am I to do, Groove?” he said. “I don’t want to leave! I’ve learned things I could not have even dreamed of learning before ….” He had an idea. “Maybe I can go to the hospital authorities and reaffirm my position here?” he shook his head. “I’m such an idiot!”

Groove regarded him kindly. “Eh – Hook has that effect on mechs,” he said. “My advice? Let him cool down.” He smiled. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere. Believe me, main thing for him will be that you turn up in the op room – once he’s over his tirade!”

“It wasn’t a tirade ….” First Aid began. But then, he registered what Groove had said. First Aid’s optics opened wide. “Really?” he said. “How – uh – I mean, how do you know?"

Groove hooked his arm loosely around First Aid’s shoulders and began to walk him along, away from the mortuary area, back in the direction of the main hospital. “Look,” he said. “I’ve watched hundreds of interns come and go. But hell – I never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you! He just makes sure you ain’t lookin’ every time!”

They paused at the junction to the main concourse – the one where, First Aid realized, he should have taken a left and not a right turn. Groove sighed. “Complicated mechanism, old Hook is,“ the para said. “Got quite a history. Him and his ‘companions.'"

First Aid looked at him in surprise. “Oh yeah – he does have them!” Groove said. “Non medical types. Construction mechs. Good looking, solid kinda types.“ He raised an optic ridge. “All right, actually!"

But First Aid didn't take that in. He was too busy digesting the amazing discovery that Hook - apparently - had 'friends.' Indeed, there was much about this incredibly talented, troubled, good looking boss of his that he did not know.

Groove was looking at him curiously. “You know – I got a strange feeling about you,” he said. “Like I’m gonna know you for a very long time.” He looked distant for a moment. Then his face brightened again. “I've been in Kaon a while. Got to know a few things. You wanna have a drink when the heat’s died down?’”

Now First Aid thought about it, he’d been so busy trying to please Hook and save lives that his social life here really had been lamentable. “That would be nice!” he said politely. “When, as you say, the emergency’s over.”

Groove gave him a friendly pat. “Good,” he said. A buzzer beeped on his arm. “Yep – duty calls. Better get to ER! See you soon!”

As he zoomed away, First Aid reflected that whatever happened with Hook, one thing was certain. He had the same ‘uncanny’ feeling as Groove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again, readers <3<3


End file.
